


Merry Christmas, Darling

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Advent Calendar, Emily Arc (X-Files), Episode: s06e06 How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, Episode: s06e19 The Unnatural, Episode: s07e04 Millennium, Episode: s07e14 Theef, F/M, Fluff, Melissa Scully - Freeform, Snowball Fights, So many tropes, Some angst, The X-Files Revival, UST, are skinner and mrs scully dating? gasp, even baby yoda makes an appearance!, mulder and scully singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: An advent calendar full of fluffy stories involving Mulder and Scully. That's it.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 24
Kudos: 172





	1. mistletoe/pretending to be a couple for the holidays

Her mother’s Christmas party is supposed to be punishment for Mulder, not fun. But here he is, smiling like a Cheshire cat, his hand on her hip, charming each and every of her relatives.

It is obvious that he revels in pretending to be her boyfriend. Or partner, as she explained to her aunt Louise. Scully tried calling Mulder her boyfriend, but it felt too weird and so they decided to stick with partner. She did, really. It’s only been two hours and Mulder has called her sweetheart, honey and - exactly one time - babe.

The look she gave him after that made him shut up for a solid two minutes. What he doesn’t know, though, is that she isn’t angry with him at all. He has no idea how her heart sped up when she heard him call her babe. Or how her hands started sweating. How hot she felt all over. The only way to stop the blush that was inadvertently creeping up from her chest and into her face, was to pretend she was furious.

“He’s a keeper, Dana,” one of her older cousins says in passing, winking at her. The mug of eggnog in her hand is not her first. She smiles, nods awkwardly. They all think Mulder is a keeper. The only person to screw with the unofficial poll results – her brother Bill – isn’t here this year.

“Relax, Scully.” Mulder’s breathy words tickle her ear and she shivers, unwittingly leaning closer into him. He squeezes her side, assuring her that he’s got her, no matter what. “No one suspects a thing,” he adds.

Suspect what? That they’re lying through their teeth about being a couple? Or that they’re both enjoying it way more than they should? Scully doesn’t dare answer. She is pretending, all right. Pretending that being Mulder’s girlfriend - partner, whatever - doesn’t feel wonderful. It feels right and yet… and yet, this isn’t something they should pursue, not for real.

It’s just for the holidays, to fool her relatives. Oh, she’s seen how her aunts and cousins look at her now that she’s with Mulder. She expects cards and flowers once she goes public with their break-up. Or maybe they can get fake married and keep doing this. The thought makes her giddy. One ridiculous sentiment at a time, Dana, she chastises herself. When she looks at Mulder, he is grinning down at her.

“What?” She asks, touching her face in case there are cookie crumbs on her.

“You’re adorable,” he says, the words slipping from his lips easily. There’s her blush again and this time she can’t stop it. “I can see you think, Scully,” he says and his Christmas punch voice touches her deep, worsens her reaction. They’re putting on a great show. No one will doubt they’re a couple. Right now, even she can’t believe they aren’t together.

“I can feel it.” He taps against her forehead. Then, with a smile, he leans down and kisses her cheek. And keeps his lips there, flush against her skin.

“Is that…,” he starts to say, not moving away.

“Skinner,” she finishes for him, watching her mother invite their boss into the house.

“Is she…?” Mulder starts, annoyingly voicing her thoughts.

“Hugging him? Yes.”

“So I’m not hallucinating?” He asks, his lips still close to her cheek, almost touching.

“Not unless we both are.” He laughs softly, resting his head on her shoulder. Mulder is way too good at playing this game.

“Mulder,” she says, realizing that Skinner being here is going to be a problem. A big one. “We can’t let him see us like this.”

“Why not?” He sounds downright bored, not moving away from her at all.

“He’s going to think we’re a couple.”

“So?”

“Can you take this seriously, please?”

“Scully, he doesn’t care,” Mulder assures her. She can feel him smile against her as they both watch Skinner lean down to talk to her mother. Why on earth is he here?

“Maggie, look!” Her aunt Louise exclaims and Scully’s breath hitches while Mulder, holding her closer, chuckles.

“He’s not going to…” This time it’s her who can’t finish her sentence, the rest of her words glued to her tongue.

“Oh, I think he is.”

Scully watches in fascination and mild horror as Skinner’s bald, shiny head turns as red as a beet and her mother, her Irish complexion betraying her, taking on a similar color.

“It’s tradition,” Aunt Louise chants, pointing at the mistletoe dangling over the reluctant pair. “You have to kiss.”

“Kiss!” Someone shouts.

“Kiss! Kiss!” More guests join in, clapping.

“Kiss!” Mulder cheers, grinning from ear to ear. Scully puts her hand over his mouth but he just kisses her fingers, momentarily distracting her.

It’s her mother who takes charge. She grabs the lapels of Skinner’s jacket and tugs him down to her so that she can press a smacking kiss on his lips.

The whole room cheers and Skinner looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Scully, this is the best party I’ve ever been to,” Mulder says.

“This was supposed to be punishment for you,” she replies, her eyes following Skinner and her mother as she leads him into the kitchen.

“Want to punish me again for Christmas?” He asks, kissing her cheek.

“Maybe,” she admits.

“And New Year’s Eve?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promises. “Hey Scully, what if your mom and Skinner-” her hand goes back on his mouth, silencing him.

“Before we’re going to speculate about any other couple, we should…”

“Kiss?” Mulder asks through her fingers, beaming at her. She gives up, lets her hand fall to her side, and smiles back.

“There’s no mistletoe,” she says, winking and leaving Mulder’s embrace. She misses his touch and his warmth, but she needs to compose herself, remind herself that this is just pretend.

But as she walks away, she knows Mulder follows her and she knows, sooner or later, they will end up under the mistletoe.


	2. secret santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in season 9.

“How was mass?” Her mother asks as Scully steps into the house, her cheeks and nose painted red from the chilly night air.

“Good,” she answers, taking off her coat and her boots. She flexes her toes to get the feeling back into them. “How was William?”

“An angel, like always.”

“I’m sorry that I-”

“Oh, would you stop,” her mother says, touching her cheek. Her hand is warm and she leans into the touch. “You know how happy I am to watch my grandson.”

“You love Midnight Mass.”

“I love you and William more. There’s always next Christmas Eve. Now put on your pajamas and join me in the living room. I’m making you a nice cup of tea.” Scully nods and walks upstairs, following her mother’s orders and feeling like a teenager.

She checks on William first, overcome by emotions as she watches him sleep. He looks so much like Mulder that looking at him makes her ache. The baby has the same pouty lips and the same strong chin. His eyes have started changing from baby blue to forest green. She wishes Mulder could see him, watch him grow up, too. Just like his father, William seems ready to venture off into the world at any given moment. His tiny hands are balled into fists, his legs slightly curled.

“I love you, William,” she whispers, gently touching his cheek. “Your daddy loves you, too.”

She quickly dons her pajamas and joins her mother downstairs. The TV flickers with an old Christmas movie as she sits down on the soft couch, staring at the Christmas lights on the tree.

“Something came while you were gone.” Her mother hands her a small package. There is no return address.

“Who dropped it off?” She asks, her heart beating fast.

“It just sat in front of the door. There was no one there when I opened the door.”

“Mom, this could be anything. It could be-”

“Just open it, Dana,” her mother says gently, putting a hand over hers. “Trust me.” With a sigh, Scully starts opening the small box.

“Oh my god,” she says, gasping as she looks inside. Tears gather in her eyes as she picks up the onesie sitting at the top.

“Spaceships.” Her laugh is a hiccup. Underneath the garment is a small hat, similar to one William already has. Scully touches the soft fabric, tears up at the fact that Mulder has touched it too.

“There’s a letter,” her mother remarks, taking it out of the box. Scully takes it and opens it with shaking hands.

’Dear Dana’, she reads and feels tears lodge in her throat. She swallows them, wants to read Mulder’s words so desperately.

’Did you know that Secret Santa has its roots in Scandinavia? It makes sense, considering that Santa lives in Finland. But I digress,’ Scully wipes a tear from her eye, smiling at his words, convinced he can hear him as she reads.

’The story goes like this: people would leave gifts on their neighbor’s doorstep and run away. The point is to leave an anonymous gift and the receiver is none the wiser. You see, I am not a good Secret Santa. I want our son to know these gifts come from me. I want you to know that I’m fine. If you’ve come this far, you will see that I did not include a gift for you. That’s because what I want to give you wouldn’t fit inside a box. But if you’re willing to forego the rules of Secret Santa, check your mother’s backyard and there will be something waiting for you.’

“What?” She mumbles, looking at her mother who is smiling, tears running down her face. With the letter in hand, Scully walks into the kitchen and opens the door to the backyard. It’s pitch-dark and quiet. She shivers, having forgotten to put on a coat.

“Nice PJs.” She hears the words before she sees him, her body reacting to his voice, knowing it so intimately.

“Mulder?” She is torn between disbelief and hope. It can’t be true, it can’t be him. And yet, there he is.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, smiling at her. Her mind catches up and she runs towards him, throwing herself against him. He smells like leather, like clear winter air and most of all, like Mulder. She’s sobbing against his chest as he holds her, whispering words of comfort into her hair.

There are questions of how swirling in her mind, of how long. Is it safe? But she can’t ask. She can only hold him, let herself be held.

“Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa,” he mumbles, kissing her cheek.

Mulder is home.


	3. snowed in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the revival era.

“What are you doing?” Mulder asks, hands full of candy and other questionable food choices. He puts them all on the bed. Their bed. Thanks to the raging snowstorm outside, they’re sharing a room tonight. And a bed. 

“Watching the blizzard,” she answers, wrapping the woolen blanket tighter around herself. They’re lucky and she knows that. The storm hit everyone by surprise, including her and Mulder. The small motel came into view right before they couldn’t see anything anymore, the blizzard blinding them.

This is the part of the job she hasn’t missed. Being stuck somewhere. In all their years together, they’ve been stranded at airports, crummy hotels and worse. If she were home, though, she’d be alone. No Mulder who wants to know her every thought. 

“Are you thinking about Holman Hardt?” Mulder stuffs a Twinkie into his mouth, watching her.

“Who?” She reaches for the salad that Mulder has hidden under all the junk food. The fact that he bought one just for her makes her smile.

“Don’t you remember Holman? Who was so in love with his friend Sheila that he controlled the weather? I’m disappointed, Scully.” Of course Mulder would remember that case. He doesn’t forget. Her salad proves it. She opens the plastic container and digs in. He even remembered to ask for cherry tomatoes, knowing how much she loves them. No, Mulder doesn’t forget. He has it all stored up in that brilliant mind of his. She knows that it’s a blessing and a curse.

“I remember,” she admits, the details of the case hazy at best. “But that’s not- it’s beautiful, isn’t it? The snow? When you’re not on the road, anyway.”

“Hmmm.” Mulder is not looking at her or the winter wonderland in front of their window.

“You don’t think it’s beautiful?”

“No, it is,” he says, candy wrappers rustling as he unpacks another Twinkie. She doesn’t remember Mulder liking them all that much. She watches him stuff it into his mouth, wondering what else she no longer knows about him. “It’s just more beautiful at home, watching from our kitchen window.”

Our kitchen window. Mulder has never stopped calling the house their home. It’s theirs, never his. Even though he is the only one living there now. To him, there is no question as to where she belongs. Still, he is giving her all the time she needs. It’s entirely up to her.

“Did you bring anything for me?” She asks, changing the subject. They’re stuck here for at least a night. In the same room. With one bed. She doesn’t want to make it more complicated than it already is.

“Besides the salad?” She nods. “How about a Butterfinger?” She wrinkles up her nose. “3 Musketeers?” She shakes her head.

“You’re a tough crowd today, Scully. A Kit Kat?”

“Yes,” she says with a smile, taking the proffered candy. She bites into the treat, enjoying the sweet chocolate taste. When she’s on her second bite, she notices Mulder watching her. “What is it?” She asks.

“You’ve got chocolate on your lip.” He points at her mouth, his smile sheepish and shy. It’s so unlike him.

“Did I get it?” She is touching her lips, her cheeks, anywhere. Mulder chuckles and shakes his head.

“May I?” He asks, still keeping his distance. His wariness gets to her. He is careful about invading her space these days, no doubt having learned it in therapy. But if she’s honest with herself, she misses him in her space. She’s used to having him there. So she nods, stays still until he is so close that she can feel him. She could reach out and touch him if she dared. Instead, Mulder does it for her. His finger is gentle as it traces the outside of her upper lip. She holds her breath until his finger retreats. He puts it in his mouth, licking off the chocolate, not once breaking eye contact.

“Thank you,” she says breathlessly.

“Can’t let you walk around with chocolate on your face, can I? So um, I’ve been thinking about tonight…,” he looks at her, nervously playing with a candy wrapper. “I could sleep on the couch if you want.” They both turn to look at the tiny couch. Even she couldn’t fit comfortably on there.

“Mulder, we shared a bed for years.”

“Not when we weren't…” Intimate. Lovers. A couple. Married. Take your pick, she thinks. Neither of them finishes the sentence.

“I trust you, Mulder. I wouldn’t want to be snowed in with anyone but you. I don’t want to share my bed with anyone but you.” She sees him consider her words. After the longest time, he nods.

“No one but me, huh?” He grins at her and she considered throwing a Ding Dong at his head. “Hey, Scully?” She looks at him, sees his nervousness return. “Do you – I know it’s none of my business and you’re free you do whatever you want, but… what you just said… does that mean you don't… date?” There’s so much hope in his voice. Fear, too. He can act all thick-skinned and aloof, but she knows it weighs on him. How can it not? It does on her, too.

“One date,” she replies truthfully. “Just one.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Nothing. He was perfect.” Craig was so perfect that the whole evening felt entirely wrong. In another lifetime, she would have given him a chance. In this one, though, there is only one man for her. For better or worse. “My mom set us up.”

“Ouch. I thought she liked me.”

“She does. But… she said I looked so sad and did nothing but work.”

“Are you? Sad?”

She thinks about it for a moment. Being here with Mulder, stuck in the middle of nowhere because of a blizzard, because of some X-File they had to investigate. Just like old times. Just the two of them. 

“No,” she replies, “no, I’m not sad. Not now.” She smiles at him, hoping he understands. He takes her hand, scooting closer. So close that he’s almost invading her space. He understands.


	4. ice skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in season 7, after "Theef".

She does keep him guessing, every day. When she told him to dress warmly, this is not what he expected.

An ice rink.

Scully is grinning at him, most of her features hidden underneath a light blue scarf and a matching hat.

But he knows. He sees the little wrinkles around her eyes that he loves so much. He sees the way her nose gently bobs up and down. Oh yeah, she’s grinning.

“Please tell me we’re here because some cryptid is haunting this place,” he says.

“No work this weekend, remember?” As if he could forget. One weekend off. That was the deal. He never would have agreed had he known Scully was planning to take him ice skating.

“How do you even know how to skate?” Mulder asks Scully as they’re handed their skates.

“I don’t,” she says, lacing the shoes.

“What?”

“Melissa and I were into roller skating. How different can it be?”

“I thought you knew how to do this,” Mulder complains as she takes his hand and they make their way over to the rink where cheesy music is booming from the loud speakers. The skates feel strange on his feet as he tries to walk. He hasn’t worn any since he was 12 years old.

He watches Scully get on the ice, no hesitation in her moves. He is so fascinated by her gracefulness that he forgets to get on the ice himself.

“Mulder, come on,” she says in that voice he’s only recently come to know. It makes him tingle all over. He takes a few careful steps onto the ice. His eyes are glued to his feet, but Scully joins him, taking his hand. He keeps the other on the rail, still unsteady on his feet.

She laughs softly, another sound he loves, but doesn’t get to hear nearly enough.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks, taking baby steps, his hand gripping the rail. As much as he trusts Scully, right now he trusts the rail more.

“I’m just amazed,” she says, amusement in her voice. “You don’t think twice about getting into trouble and here you are, afraid to skate on ice.”

“It’s different,” he mumbles grumpily.

“How?” She tugs at his hand, tries to make him let go of the rail. Children are looking at them, skating past and laughing. He lets go of the rail for a second, his hand hovering over the chipped off metal. Just in case. But Scully pulls again, more forecefully. His skates betray him, glide perfectly over the ice and towards Scully.

“Scully, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he says, letting her drag him along.

“I’ve got you,” she promises and how can he not believe her? He dares to move his head, catch her profile in the icy sunshine glow. She’s breathtaking.

“Scully, you’re-” is as far as he gets. His left foot slides into his right one, one blade cutting into the other. He twirls comically before he lands on his ass. Painfully.

“Mulder, are you all right?” Scully asks, leaning over him.

“Yeah,” he answers. “My ass once again broke my fall.” She chuckles and his pain is almost worth it, just to hear it again.

“Let me help you up.” She offers him both her hands.

“Can we go skiing next time?” He asks, taking her hands.

“Skiing?”

“I know how to ski. I can teach you.”

“I know how to ski,” she says defensively. “It’s just that…” She forgets that she wanted to help him up. He sits there, his ass slowly freezing and she’s just staring at him, holding his hands.

He hopes no one thinks he’s proposing. Fuck. Well, in a way he is. A ski trip means vacation. They never take vacations, definitely not together. Most of his vacation days are used for hospital stays. This would mean admitting it to the world. Mulder and Scully are more than work partners. He is ready. He is more than ready. The question is whether Scully is, too.

“We can take a trip to the Caribbean, if you prefer that. I know my ass would.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says and tries to pull him up, only to lose her footing and fall on his chest.

“Did I hurt you?” She asks, looking concerned. She feels good on top of him. They should do this more often. With far less clothing and on a bed. Or at least somewhere where it’s warm.

“Mulder? Talk to me.”

“Not hurt,” he assures her, tucking a strand of hair back under her hat. “So what do you say?”

“First, we need to find a way to get off the ice,” she says. “Then… I wouldn’t mind talking about a ski trip.” The pink hue in her face is not just from the cold. She leans down and kisses his cheek, her lips hot against his cold skin.


	5. heart growing three sizes, the Grinch style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "How The Ghosts Stole Christmas"

“Why did you have to bring him?” Bill doesn’t even try to keep his voice down or pretend that he’s not talking about Mulder. He’s throwing daggers at her partner, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. Mulder didn’t want to come. She convinced him because she wants him here. Part of the reason is that she still hasn’t come to terms with what happened earlier. If it happened at all.

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” Her answer is a hiss, trying to keep this conversation between the two of them. The numerous children running around the house this morning are deceivingly quiet.

“How is that your problem, Dana? He’s not a stray dog!” Mulder chooses that moment to glance over at them. He does look like a stray. And he’s her friend. One she shot earlier, maybe. Or he shot her. Which is also a maybe. She stares long and hard at him as if trying to figure something out. A smile spreads on his face unexpectedly and her heartbeat picks up. “Send him home,” Bill says, killing the moment between them. “He doesn’t belong here.”

“He’s my guest. He’s my friend.”

“He doesn’t belong here, Dana,” Bill repeats, lowering his face and his voice. “He isn’t family.”

“He is my family, Bill. I want him here.” No longer able to take it, she storms off, leaving her brother and his hatred behind. Her mother tries to stop her, touches her arm, but she keeps going. She needs a moment to herself. She locks herself in the bathroom and leans against the door. Breathe in, breathe out. Would Bill have been more accommodating had she told him about the night she and Mulder had? Probably not. He’d blame Mulder for taking her to a haunted house in the first place, for making her late, for everything.

Mulder was right. She should have left him at his apartment, all by himself. He would have watched A Christmas Carol, sulking and not sleeping. No, bringing him here was the better choice. How could she leave him alone? Mulder deserves to spend Christmas with people who like him. Some of them, anyway. She just needs Bill to see it, too. To accept Mulder in her life. She closes her eyes. Her eyelids feel heavy and if she could, she’d just disappear to her old bedroom, lie down and sleep until tomorrow.

First, she has to save Mulder from her brother, though.

Scully throws some cold water into her face and leaves the bathroom. She listens to the happy chattering of her tiny cousins and various other children she’s never seen before, but who are somehow related to her. When she walks back into the living room, she expects to see Bill still standing there, a disapproving look on his face. But he’s no longer there. She smiles when she sees Mulder on the couch with Tara and baby Matthew. Her nephew is in his mother’s arms but trying to escape and crawl into Mulder’s lap.

“He seems to like you,” Scully says when she joins them.

“He really does,” Tara throws in, smiling at Mulder. Scully is glad that her sister-in-law hasn’t adopted Bill’s attitude. “Do you want to hold him?”

“I don’t know.” Mulder looks pleadingly at her. What do I do here, Scully? his eyes seem to be screaming. “I’m not really good with-” Matthew has freed himself from his mother’s grip and lands on Mulder’s chest with a soft thud.

Matthew lifts his head and glares at Mulder, spit running from his mouth and onto Mulder’s shirt. He reaches out a tiny hand and grabs his nose. They always go for the nose. 

“Hey there,” Mulder says, putting a hand on the baby’s back. “How does it feel to be a year old? Hm? Any wisdom you like to share?”

“Gah! Gah!” Matthew pounds his tiny fists on Mulder’s chest, who chuckles.

“Yeah, I know how you feel, buddy.”

Scully watches Mulder and the baby, tears forming in her eyes. Her stomach is in knots. She’ll never have this. Not with Mulder, not with anyone. And if she’s honest, the only person she imagines this with is Mulder.

“He’s good with children,” Tara whispers into her ear, holding her arms. All she can do is nod.

“Hey, what…” Bill returns to the room, his voice loud. But he stops as soon as he sees his son with Mulder.

“I don’t want to hear a single word from you, Bill Scully,” Tara warns him.

“I wasn’t going to say- I didn’t know that he's… Matthew really seems to like him, doesn’t he?” Scully turns towards her brother, surprised. His voice is soft and so is his face. The two siblings look at each other and call a truce. Bill’s lips curl into a smile and so do hers, a moment later.

“You’ll be nice to him?” Scully asks her brother, standing close to him.

He nods. “For one day. I’m going back to disapproving of him tomorrow.” Bill grins at her, reminding her so much of their father that she feels homesick. “You know I’ve always been hard on your boyfriends.”

“He’s not my…” But she decides not to finish her sentence. Bill is no longer listening anyway. He’s holding Tara in his arms, softly swaying to the Christmas music their mother has put on. Mulder, still holding Matthew, gives her a look and so she joins him on the couch, sitting closer than necessary. Just for today, she tells herself. Just because it’s Christmas.


	6. cuddling for warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Millennium"

He is as giddy as a little child, waiting for Scully to open the door. His good mood has nothing to do with the fact that he’s just got rid of his arm sling. Or maybe it has a little do with it. Being sling free means he gets to hug Scully with both his arms. When he touches her, he can use both his hands. That thought alone puts a big grin on his face.

Mulder knows that he could have called her, given her the good news over the phone. But his Scully likes proof. What’s better proof than a good Mulder hug?

Their intimate relationship is as untried as the new year. He’s kept his distance these last few days, after their first kiss. Their first, second and… twenty-fifth kiss. He lost count, too caught up in what he and Scully were doing on New Year’s Day.

Until she stopped him. Her lips swollen and red, making it hard (in more ways than one) to listen to what she was saying. His arm. Sling. Rest. Soon. Those are the words that stuck with him. She was not going to sleep with him while he was injured, no matter how much he promised her that he was fine.

But today he really is fine. His arm is out of the sling. If she wanted, he could hand her a doctor’s note saying he is ready. For anything.

He is convinced that nothing can dampen his mood. That is until Scully opens the door.

“Hi,” she says, her voice unrecognizable. Her robe is only half closed and he’s certain that her pajama top underneath is buttoned wrong.

“What’s the matter?” He asks.

“Sick,” is her simple answer. It sounds more like “ick”, which works perfectly with how she looks. She leaves the door open for him as she shuffles back to the couch.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“For what?” She sniffles, searching for her box of tissues.

“To take care of you,” he says, handing her a tissue right before she sneezes.

“You’re only gonna get sick, too, and everyone will know that we… that we did.”

“Did what?” He is torn between amusement and confusion. Scully makes a hand gesture that looks like a penguin trying to fly. He smiles at her, realizing how much he loves her. It’s not a new revelation, to him. But today is not the day to confess his undying love for her.

“I get it,” he says, nodding. He strokes her hair and she sighs, relaxing against him.

“You’re going to get sick,” she says again, sniffling miserably.

“I don’t care,” he replies softly, kissing her temple. She feels too warm. “Scully? I think you have a fever.” She nods.

“’m cold.”

“Come on, time for bed.”

“No,” she complains, staring up at him. She’s pouting and for a second he remembers why he came here in the first place. To take the next step. That, too, will have to wait. Tonight is all about Scully, about making her feel better.

“Come on,” Mulder gently nudges her. “I’ll cuddle with you.”

“Mulder, no.” But she lets herself be led to the bedroom. His heart jumps in his chest, and his cock in his pants, but he reminds both of them that they’re not getting that kind of action tonight. Maybe next week. Or the week after. They waited seven years already, what’s another few days?

He helps her out of her robe and sees her shiver. “Get under the covers, Scully. I’ll be right back.” In the bathroom, he finds painkillers that will get her fever down. He fills a glass with water and takes the pills and the glass to her bedside. Scully opens her eyes when she sees him, even cracks a small smile. Her cheeks are rosy and he wishes it was for a different reason than her fever.

“Open up.” He puts the pills on her tongue and she swallows them, drinking the whole glass. Mulder kisses her forehead, still concerned with how warm she is. He’ll keep an eye on her temperature, just in case.

He gets out of his jeans and slips into bed behind her. Half-asleep already, she scoots closer, letting him know that she wants him here.

“You’re gonna get sick, too” she repeats once more, mumbling the words into her pillow.

“I still don’t care,” he replies. “I will stay here until you feel better. I will make you tea, I will make you soup and I will sing you to sleep if that’s something you want. Until you’re rid of your cold, you won’t get rid of me.” Her chuckle immediately turns into a cough.

“Right now, I just want you to hold me.”

“That’s good cause I’m a pro at that.”


	7. snowball fight

“Mulder, what on earth are you doing?” Scully watches him from a safe distance, her arms wrapped around herself against the bitter cold and the big, wet snowflakes. The wind picks up, biting into her skin.

“What does it look like?” Mulder says, not caring about the weather at all. “I’m building a snowman. Wanna help?” His grin is infectious.

“It’s cold.” What she wants is to be angry with him. They’re stuck here in this remote winter wonderland because no planes are taking off. Not in this weather. She was supposed to meet her mother for Christmas shopping the day after tomorrow. So far there is no telling how long they’ll be here. Scully looks up at the sky, frowns at the slight orange hue that promises more snow.

“I’ll lend you my scarf. It’s warm. Come on, Scully. Have some fun.”

“Fine,” she says, stomping through the snow. He is taking off his scarf and she’s so stunned that he was serious that she simply watches him, speechless.

“Here you go,” he says, draping it over her. The fabric is still warm from his skin. It smells like him, too. “Looks good on you.” He smiles at her, his hands still on her, making sure the scarf sits just right. His gloved fingertips come into contact with her skin and she shivers. She looks at him, at his apple red cheeks and his warm smile.

“So what are the rules for building your snowman?” She breaks the tension between them.

“Rules, Scully? You should know me better.”

“I can do anything?”

“Sure.” But he watches closely as she reaches for fresh snow and forms it into a ball. She presses it against the snowman and smiles at her work.

“Did you just turn my snowman into a snowwoman?” He asks, faking outrage.

“Almost,” she says, making another snow breast. “Tada!”

“Hm,” Mulder walks around, looking the snowwoman up and down. “She is sexy,” he concludes with a grin.

“Dork,” she whispers, getting an idea. She makes another snowball but this time she throws it at Mulder.

“Oh, Scully,” he says, quickly grabbing some snow himself, “you should not have done that.” He grins as he throws his own snowball at her. Scully squeaks when it hits her shoulder.

“Is that the best you can do?” She challenges him, both of them reaching into the snow. They throw quick looks at each other, trying to be faster than the other. Scully wins this round and hits Mulder in the chest. She giggles until he looks at her, his eyes intense. She ducks the second she sees him aim and the snowball misses her.

“Seriously, Mulder,” she teases. “You’re bad at this.”

“Oh, just you wait.” Before she can react, he has another snowball coming at her. This time it hits her arm. She manages to hit him in the chest again, both of them giggling like children. Her next snowball misses him because she is laughing too hard. She slips on the snow and lands on her butt, still laughing. Her stomach hurts but she can’t stop. Mulder doesn’t stop either. He hauls a snowball at her and this time his aim isn’t off at all. It hits her right in the forehead.

She stares at him, rubbing the spot where it connected. It throbs.

“Fuck, Scully,” Mulder says, falling to his knees in front of her. He takes her head into his hands and examines her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Mulder,” she assures him. “All is fair in love and snowball fights.”

“All of it?” He asks, his face coming closer. Or maybe her vision is compromised. Her hand is in the snow and she grabs a handful, watching him lean in. Just as their lips are about to touch for the first time, she smacks the snow into the side of his face, giggling.

“You’re mean,” he says, touching his cheek. She’d believe him if he wasn’t grinning. “But good, I’ll give you that. You win, Scully.” She smiles triumphantly and throws her arms in the air.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she says before kissing his cheek.


	8. the perfect gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "The Unnatural"

“Thank you,” Mulder says, examining the small gift Scully has just given him. It’s a potted plant and Mulder has never been good at identifying plants. He looks at it from all angles, tries to figure it out. The reason why she gave him this, too.

“It’s a very late or very early Christmas present,” she interrupts his thought, her smile soft. He gives her a look, remembers their baseball game. His very early or verly present to her and their first, unofficial date. In Mulder’s book at least. They haven’t talked about it or mentioned it at all. Scully giving him a gift, using his own clever line, gives him hope that it meant as much to her as it did to him.

“Why this… plant?” He asks and hopes that he doesn’t sound ungrateful. He isn’t. He loves the plant and he will do his best to keep it alive. His track record with the fish is not too bad.

“It’s peppermint,” Scully answers, blushing and turning away from him. “I just wanted you to have it.” He steals another, closer look at her. Her face is almost as red as her hair.

“I appreciate it, Scully,” he says, meaning it. “I will keep you updated on how little Pepper here is faring chez Mulder.”

“Pepper?”

“Plants need names, don’t they?” The smile she gives him is warm, genuine. He’s missed that smile of hers. The last few months, with Diana around, he didn’t get to see it too often. Those times – he hopes, anyway – are over now.

They don’t talk about the peppermint plant anymore, or the baseball date. The rest of the day is all work, work, work. Before she leaves, Scully gives him some additional tips on watering the plant and then she’s gone. Without her, the office feels empty and dark, so he packs up his things and heads home, too.

He runs into Mrs. Herold while checking his mail and curious as ever, the old lady takes a good look at his plant pot.

“Peppermint!” She says, touching his arm and standing much too close. Her eyes sparkle with excitement and the desire to gossip. “Who are you giving it to?”

“It’s mine,” he says, feeling protective of the plant. Scully gave it to him, after all. “It was a gift.”

“A gift.” Mrs. Herold nods and touches his arm again, tugging at his coat. “You know what a peppermint pot means, don’t you?” He stares at her. There’s a deeper meaning behind the plant? Is that why Scully was acting so strangely earlier?

“Ah, you don’t know.” She strokes his arm and any other moment it might make him feel uncomfortable but right now, he just wants to know what the plant means. Mrs. Herold takes pity on him and starts talking.

“You see, when you give someone a peppermint plant, you’re asking them a question,” she stops for emphasis, staring at Mulder with big, bulging eyes.

“What kind of question?” He asks when he can’t take the suspense any longer.

“You’re asking them to give them a chance, Mr. Mulder.” She pats his arm, gives him a stern look and waddles off towards the elevator. Mulder stares after her, what she just said to him whirling in his mind. Scully wants him to give her a chance? Does that mean… instead of following Mrs. Herold to the elevator, Mulder walks right back outside. He needs to be somewhere else.

Scully is surprised when she sees him again so soon. Holding the peppermint pot, no less. She eyes him and the plant, obviously uncomfortable.

“The answer is yes.” He sputters the words.

“The- what are you talking about?”

“The plant. The question- I mean the chance. The answer is yes, Scully. Whatever chance you want me to give you, the answer is yes.”

“Mulder, are you okay?”

He nods enthusiastically. “I didn’t know what peppermint meant. I thought it was just a cool plant,” he grins at her but either she doesn’t get his pun or doesn’t care. “I ran into my neighbor, Mrs. Herold. She explained it to me. When you give someone a peppermint pot, you’re asking for a chance.” And he waits. And waits. And waits. Scully’s face is an enigma and she remains mute.

“Did I get it wrong?” He asks, the enthusiasm slipping from him.

“No,” she says quietly after a long moment. “You didn’t get it wrong. I just didn’t think you’d figure it out this fast.”

“You know me, Scully.” He can’t hide his grin. Or his joy. “Can I come in? Maybe we can, um, take care of Pepper together?” She lifts her head, her cheeks flushed once more. Then she nods, inviting him in.

“I’d like that.”

It started with an almost kiss almost a year ago, followed by a long detour that almost threw them off track. He hit a home run and Scully, his brave partner, put the question they both wanted an answer to into words. Or a plant pot. Now, they take their chance.


	9. christmas carols

“He wants us to do what?” Mulder stands quickly, his desk chair crashing into something behind him. She knows how he feels. She had the same – well, a similar – reaction just moments ago when she was in Skinner’s office. Their boss knew what he was doing when he asked to see her. Alone.

“Mulder, everyone is doing it.”

“So? Since when does that include us?”

“Since now. Skinner said it’s mandatory.” She stares at her shoes. She tried to get out of it, too. For both of them. You already didn’t attend the team-building seminar, Skinner reminded her. There was nothing she could say. So really, if she thinks about it, it’s all Mulder’s fault. He made them miss the seminar that one time. Looking at him now, the way he runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up angrily, she decides not to remind him. Yet.

“Scully, I’m not going to sing at the office Christmas party.” He shakes his head like a small child. She half expects him to stomp his feet or throw a tantrum.

“We have to, Mulder.” She sighs. Skinner gave her a list of songs for them. It’s still in her pocket. She hasn’t dared to look at it herself. “Skinner said it was a huge success last year.” Of course, they weren’t there last year. So far, they managed to be busy every single year. Mulder’s doing, she suspects. The last time she went to one of the infamous office parties was during their first year together. People kept asking her where Spooky Mulder was and whether she thought Santa Claus was an alien.

“What if I get sick and-,” he breaks off when he sees her face. Last Christmas, she was sick. Not only that, she was dying. Compared to that, singing a song together doesn’t seem all that bad. Mulder realizes his mistake, too, mouths a sorry, and plays with his tie. “What does he want us to sing?” He asks, his sigh long and dramatic. 

“He gave me a list.” She takes the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket.

“You’re too quiet, Scully. How bad is it? Don’t tell me he wants us to sing All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

“Um, no.” That song, at least, is not on the list. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” she reads and looks at him. He shakes his head, munching on a sunflower seed.

“Let it Snow.”

“Pass.”

“There are only two more. You’ll have to pick one or I will.” Her stern look is met with another nod. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” she says quickly, slightly blushing. If they sing this song together, the rumor mill will be up and running. Which, she thinks, it’s probably anyway. They don’t need to make it worse by singing a romantic duet. “Or Blue Christmas.”

“Elvis.” Mulder grins at her. “We have a winner, Scully.”

“I don’t know the lyrics,” she admits. Skinner didn’t think to include them.

“I’ll have a Blue Christmas without you,” Mulder starts singing softly and she stares at him in surprise. Who knew he could sing so well? “I’ll be so blue thinking about you,” he keeps going, his eyes never leaving hers. His small smile is downright mischievous. But she’s mesmerized. They’re going to be a spectacle at the Christmas party, no matter what.

“I don’t remember the rest,” he says with a shrug. “I’m sure we can figure it out. We should get together and practice, though.” He waggles his eyebrows at her.

“Two minutes ago you were out of your mind that we have to do this at all.”

Another shrug. “Knowing you’ll be there with me… maybe it won’t be too bad after all.”

Maybe he’s right.


	10. it's a Christmas miracle!

“Mulder?”

He doesn’t answer, just sits there gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead. He looks like the Grinch impersonated.

“Where are we?” She asks, trying not to sound accusatory.

He waits with his answer. When it finally comes, it’s more of a grunt. “Don’t know.” Just like she figured. He claimed he knew what he was doing, where he was going. I know where your brother lives, he’d said when he got behind the wheel. That was two hours ago. It should have taken them just over an hour to get there. It’s getting dark soon and the clouds above threaten snow.

It’s either now or never.

“Mulder, I think-”

“I can drive,” he interrupts her. “Can we listen to something else? This station plays nothing but Christmas music.”

That’s because it is Christmas, she wants to say, but keeps it to herself. It’s not like he doesn’t know. The only reason they’re on the road is because it’s Christmas. Inviting Mulder to her family festivities seemed like a great idea. At first, anyway. Her mother begged her to invite him. What about Bill? She asked, uncertain if it was a good idea to put Mulder and Bill in the same room for a prolonged period of time. Part of her wonders if Mulder got lost on purpose.

He starts fumbling with the radio button, his grunts unintelligible. She pushes his hand away to search for another station herself. Finding a radio station that doesn’t play Christmas music on Christmas Eve is like winning the lottery. Just as she’s about to turn the radio off altogether, she stops. The station crackles slightly, but she hears an old pop song from the late 80s or maybe early 90s. It makes her smile. She turns to Mulder who has visibly relaxed.

“Better?” She asks him and he nods. He starts tapping his fingers against the wheel in tune with the song, mouthing a few of the words. “Mulder, I know you don’t want to hear this,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, looking at Mulder. On the radio, they sing about throwing caution to the wind and giving into love. His ridiculous request to change the station brought them here, gave them this song that, if she were to listen more closely, she’d realize could be about them. They’re in this together, for better or worse.

“I think… I think we’re lost and I think it would be better if you let me drive.”

Again, Mulder is silent. But he’s not quiet. No, he’s singing along. “Need no fortune teller,” he hums, “to know where my lucky love belongs.” It’s only them out here, wherever they are. They haven’t passed another car in what seems like hours. So Scully is surprised when Mulder sets the blinker and stops at the car on the side of the road. She watches him until the car comes to a stop. He leaves the keys dangling and the radio keeps playing as he gets out. She joins him, watches as he stretches.

“Well, you know the way,” he says, with a shrug.

“Mulder, what is your problem? You’ve been grumpy all day. If it’s about Bill, then-”

“I forgot your present at home.”

“What?” She stares at him, confused.

“I forgot to pack your Christmas present. Which means you won’t get it until we’re back home. I don’t have anything else.” He starts pacing.

“Is that why you’re in such a bad mood?” It all makes sense now. She softens, watching him pace on the other side of the car. “Mulder, I don’t care.”

“I care, Scully. Your family will care. Your brother-”

“Bill doesn’t matter. I have you. That is enough for me. You can give me my present when we’re back home. I’m happy we get to celebrate Christmas together.”

“Of all the presents I could have forgotten,” he mumbles as she walks around the car. It might be California, but it’s still too cold to have this conversation outside.

“Mulder, just get in the car.” On tiptoes, she presses a kiss to his warm cheek and pats his chest.

“I’m sorry, Scully. I really am. Who forgets the present for their…” He looks at her, unsure what word to use. She’s been there. He throws his arms in the air. “For their… for you.”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

She knows she can’t sing. She can’t carry a tune and she won’t even try. The lyrics are stuck in her mind and Mulder, her very own fool, needs to hear them.

“Hello, you fool,” she half sings, half says, “I love you. Now come on, join the joyride.” He stares at her for a second before he starts laughing. He gets in the car and Scully thinks they might make it to her brother’s just before it’s pitch-dark.

When they finally get there, after losing their way only one more time, the whole family welcomes them, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” her mother announces. “Fox and Dana are here!”


	11. ugly Christmas sweaters

“Is there like a dress code?” Jackson buries his hands in his pockets, blinking at Mulder through strands of hair. How does the kid see anything? As always, he itches with the need to brush the hair out of the boy’s face. Neither he nor Scully want to bring up a discussion about getting his hair cut. Messy hair or not, he’s their son and they’re glad he’s here. One year in and they’re still getting used to each other.

“A dress code?”

“When we see Dana’s brother for Christmas,” Jackson clarifies. “Do I have to like, wear a tux?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, you don’t. Just wear something clean.” He looks at Katie, who is stuffing her fist into her mouth, watching curiously. “And even that isn’t mandatory. Just look at your sister.” Jackson’s face softens. His baby sister is his kryptonite.

“Are you dressing her up?” Katie reaches for Jackson’s finger and grabs it tightly, making gurgling noises. She smiles at him and he smiles back. A matching set. Sometimes Mulder still wonders if he’s dreaming. How did they end up here? Him and Scully in a house out in the country, with two kids and a dog. 

“I shouldn’t,” Mulder says. That’s what Scully said when Mulder brought it up one night. Granted, he woke her up, too excited to wait until the morning to show her Disney’s newest ploy to make money. After 25 years together, he should have known. Never spring ideas on Scully when she’s trying to sleep. One day he will learn. Without even opening her eyes, she told him that there was no such thing as a Baby Yoda and if he wanted to dress up their child, he’d have to wait until Halloween. But after all this time, Scully should know him too and know that he doesn’t have that kind of patience.

“She’d look cute with Yoda ears,” Jackson says, touching the baby’s soft auburn hair.

“How do you know about the Yoda ears?” Jackson’s face turns pink.

“I can see your browser history, you know. You ordered them, didn’t you?” When his son looks at him, he reminds him of Scully. He’s seen that expression hundreds of times.

“Yeah,” he admits, grinning. “Want to see?” Jackson nods, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile. Mulder dashes to his study and takes the small costume out of his drawer. Both his children look at him with amusement when he returns. Jackson picks up his sister and she immediately reaches for the knitted hat in Mulder’s hand.

“You want to try it on, Katie?” While Jackson holds her, Mulder puts the small hat on her hat and she giggles, her fingers reaching up to touch it. Her mouth makes an ‘oh’ when she feels the soft fabric. “Let’s try the coat, too.” Originally, he only wanted the Yoda hat, but the fitting brown coat was cheap and that way he could save on shipping costs. “It fits,” he says once Katie is dressed up as Yoda, ears and all. The coat is still a bit big on her, but he knows she’ll grow into it quickly. Both he and Jackson giggle looking at the girl and Katie, happy to be the center of attention, laughs, too.

“Take a picture so we can show Dana,” Jackson says.

“No need.” Both turn around to see Scully in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her. She’s smiling.

“Mamamamama,” Katie babbles, grinning from ear to ear. Her actual ears and her knitted ones.

“Come here, you little monster.” She takes the baby from Jackson, who stands closer to Mulder, quickly brushing his hair out of his face.

“She’s Baby Yoda,” Mulder says.

“I can see that. Where did you get this?” Scully asks, gently touching the long, green ears. Katie tries to tug one down to put it in her mouth.

“The internet.”

“Of course,” Scully says softly, chuckling. “The internet is not good for Daddy, is it, Katie?”

“Dada,” Katie says, pointing at Mulder.

“Thank you, kiddo. Scully, come on, admit she looks cute.”

“She does. But Mulder, it’s Christmas, not Halloween.”

“What if we all wear like these ugly Christmas sweaters? No one would wonder why Katie is dressed as Baby Yoda.” Jackson says with a shrug, looking at Scully. “We could do a Star Wars theme.”

“Jackson, that’s a brilliant idea,” Mulder says, putting an arm around his son’s shoulder.

“Mulder, I don’t know,” Scully starts. She looks at Katie, who seems to have decided that her sleeve is just as perfect to chew on as the Yoda ears. “Oh, why not. They all think we’re crazy anyway.”

“Well, we are,” Jackson says and they all laugh. He’s right.


	12. sudden snowfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep for "How The Ghosts Stole Christmas"

Her plan was so simple: stop at Mulder’s, check up on him, give him his gift and leave for her family’s. After tonight, though, she should have known that even the best-laid plans can go awfully wrong.

The first flurries of snow settled right as she parked her car. She paid them no attention, barely registered them. Her mind was reeling from the night they’d had, busy with thoughts about Mulder, not the weather.

“I should leave,” she says later, holding the soft scarf Mulder gave her close to her. “It’s late,” she adds, glancing at him.

“Or early,” he replies with a soft smile. “I know you have all these presents for your family and they’re expecting you, but… have you looked outside? It’s coming down hard.”

“What?” She gets up and looks out Mulder’s window. The few flurries have developed into a full blown blizzard. She sees her car, or some of it, sitting under a soft, white blanket of snow. “It wasn’t supposed to snow,” she complains, pouting. “The forecast said 80 percent chance of rain.”

“Snow is just frozen rain, Scully.”

Smartass, she thinks.

“I hate snow,” she mumbles, not even thinking about it. She has to call her mother, warn her that she’ll most likely be late. If she can get there at all.

“I hate it too,” Mulder says and she startles when she realizes that he’s joined her by the window. “Reminds me of-”

“Antarctica,” she finishes for him and he nods.

“This is not- you can stay here if you want. I know it’s not the same but…”

“Can I use your phone?”

“Of course.” With one hand still on her shoulder, he grabs his phone and hands it to her. It’s already ringing. “Um, your mom’s number is in the phone.” He colors slightly. Scully looks at him, amazement swimming in her eyes. He’s got her mother’s number in his phone. How often has he called her? Has had to call her because something was wrong?

Mulder moves away from her and she misses him immediately. Before he can go too far, she reaches for his hand and grips it tightly. He stops, watches her. She pretends not to see and waits for her mother to pick up the phone.

“Hi mom, it’s me,” she says when she finally does.

“Dana! Is everything all right? It’s early.”

“Um, yes. I just wanted to let you know that I might be late because-”

“The snow, I know. The children are so excited about it. Oh, you should see it. But I’m not sure you should drive in his weather.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” She looks at Mulder. At their hands, their laced fingers. When did that happen? “Would it be all right if I brought someone with me?” On the other side of the line, her mother gasps. Mulder eyes her, carefully optimistic. He won’t spend another Christmas alone, not on her watch.

“Is it Fox, dear?” Her mother can’t keep the enthusiasm out of her voice.

The corners of her mouth turn up, seeing Mulder. It’s about time. She squeezes his hand. “Yes, it’s him.”


	13. putting up holiday decorations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the revival era

“Thank you,” Scully says standing by her car and holding the small box of Christmas decorations. “For all of these.” Mulder, a few feet away, nods, stares at the felt elf that’s peeking out of the box.

“Thank you for helping me put up the rest in the house.” How fucking polite they are. Scully called him yesterday and asked if she could pick up some of their Christmas decoration for her new house. Very politely. It’s all hers anyway. He didn’t mention that, simply invited her for dinner instead. When she got here earlier, he took her coat and tactfully placed a kiss on her cheek. Some days it feels as though the last 20 years haven’t happened. As if she’s never lived here, shared his bed, loved him.

But he knows better. And when she helped him put up the decorations, it was almost like old times.

Since she’s left, their house hasn’t been the same. Whenever he looks at the couch, he remembers nights she fell asleep with her head in his lap. Remembers other nights when they didn’t even pretend to watch the movie and made love in the soft blue glow of the TV. The kitchen table speaks of breakfast tales, of dinner discussions. Of desperate love. Every room in their house holds hundreds of stories, starring Scully and him.

“And thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” Another thank you and he might lose his mind. What’s left of it.

“You’re welcome.”

“You really don’t mind?” She motions to the box and he shakes his head. She could take every piece of Christmas decoration with her and he still wouldn’t care. All he cares about, all he wants, is to have her in the house. When she packed her things, she packed a piece of his heart.

“Most of it is yours, Scully.” His voice is soft. Last year, like the years before, she spent Christmas at her mother’s. This is not their first Christmas apart, but it’s the first without her mother. Her loss is still palpable. To Mulder, too. Maggie made sure to call him, asked him how he was in that way only mothers do. As much as he misses her, he knows it’s ten times worse for Scully.

“Yeah,” she says in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. She looks at the box, stuffs the elf further inside. “Um, I better get going. Get these decorations up.” She smiles at him and for a moment he wonders if she doesn’t want to leave, if she is waiting for him to ask her to stay. He won’t. As much as he wants to, he can’t. It’s her choice. It’s always been up to her.

“See you at work,” she adds, sounding uncertain. She doesn’t want to leave. Less than an hour ago, they were laughing together. He could pretend nothing had changed. For an hour or two, decorating their house, they were the perfect team. Some things never change, others refuse to stay the same.

“See you.” He walks away, needs to. He doesn’t want her to leave, never does. The longer he stays, the longer he watches, the worse it gets. Inside, he looks at the cheery decorations, the soft lights and the ornaments. Without Scully here to share it with, it’s just useless stuff to him.

Hours later, when he’s doing the dishes, his phone vibrates. He doesn’t need to look at it to know it’s Scully.

‘Can’t sleep,’ her text says. It’s only 11 pm, but he knows her, knows she likes to go to bed early if she can. A few times, when things were still good, she would come back downstairs, find him in the living room or his office, look at him and say these same words. I can’t sleep, Mulder. Sometimes she joined him, nuzzling close to him like a kitten. Other times he turned off the lights, took her hand and led her back to bed where he held her until she fell asleep. No matter what, whenever she couldn’t sleep, he was there.

'Come sleep with me.’ He knows it’s daring. He watches the three dots appear that tell him that Scully is writing a reply. As quickly as they show up, they disappear again. It’s like a game. Were they on the phone, she might stutter and call him crazy. She could just not answer, text him tomorrow morning and lie that she fell asleep right after she got his text. But that’s not his Scully.

'You’re an hour away,’ she texts back.

'It’s only half an hour this time of night. Or I could come to your place?’ It’s a question. He will go where she wants him to go, or stay here and wait. Scully takes her time. So much time. He stares long and hard at his phone. So hard that he sees stars and almost misses her reply.

'Be there in half an hour.’ He smiles at his phone, sets it aside and turns on all the Christmas lights, waits. Things look brighter already.


	14. hot cocoa date

"I can't believe it's dark already." Scully's complaint is accompanied by a sigh, visible in the icy cold December air. Her candy apple cheeks peek out from under her collar. The sight makes Mulder smile. It makes him hungry, too. For what, he isn't sure. All he knows is that he doesn't want to go back to their motel yet. The case is wrapped and their flight isn't until tomorrow.

"Come on," he says, taking her hand. "I saw this cute Christmas market earlier. It's perfect for cold and dark afternoons." He winks at her and he can tell that she doesn't want to, but she smiles back at him.

"Under one condition," she says, already following him, her hand still in his. "You'll buy me hot cocoa."

"You're a cheap date." She slaps him playfully, walking close to him and sharing his warmth.

The market isn't far. Mulder spots it easily as soft, warm lights radiate from small Christmas stalls, nestled close together as if they, too, are trying to stay warm.

The closer they get, the stronger the scent of roasted almonds, of hot chestnuts and Christmas spices. Mulder takes a deep breath and glances at Scully. A soft smile plays around her lips and he wishes he could freeze this moment, keep it forever.

"Hot cocoa, Mulder," she reminds him with a tug on his hand. He nods, words escaping him. They walk slowly, let their eyes wander over the magical displays until Scully stops at a stall that sells scarves.

"You should get this one." Mulder points to a brilliant blue one. The color reminds him of her eyes.

"I don't think I-"

"I'll buy it."

"Mulder, no. I have scarves at home."

"I don't want you to be cold. We'll take this one."

"It's $10."

"Mulder," Scully starts again but he puts his hand on hers, looking at her.

"Please let me do this for you." She nods and he pays for the scarf, taking it from the saleswoman. "Come here," he says, motioning for Scully to step closer. With every step she takes, his heart beats faster. He puts it around her, feeling her eyes on his.

"How does it look?" She asks quietly once he's wrapped it around her neck.

"Breathtaking," he replies, looking into her eyes. She blushes and grabs his hand again, tugging him along.

"I still want my hot cocoa, you know."

They find a stall soon enough and get in line, many of other people having had the same idea as them. Scully leans against him, never letting go of his hand. With her free hand, she touches her scarf.

"Why didn't you get one for yourself, too?" She asks him.

"Huh?" Scully reaches out and touches his throat, her gloved fingers softly stroking his skin.

"You're cold."

He shakes his head. "Don't feel cold."

"I have an idea." She takes off her scarf and before he can protest, she's putting it around him. She gets on tiptoes, their faces so close that their noses almost bump into each other.

"What are you doing?" He asks with a soft laugh.

"I thought we could share but you're just too damn tall."

"Or maybe you're too damn short." He takes the scarf out of her hands, their fingers touching. "It's your scarf, Scully." He puts it back around her, wrapping it tight. "I'm not cold, I promise." Not as long as she is this close to him, as long as he gets to hold her hand.

"Hey, you're next in line." A young man behind them taps Mulder on the shoulder. Scully covers her mouth to hide her laugh.

They order their hot cocoas and Mulder puts extra cream on his. Scully glances at him, at his steaming cup. Her eyes seem to be asking if he's sure about this. He dips his finger into the cream and drops a dollop of it on her nose.

"Cute." He beams at her. Without taking her eyes off his, she does the same to him.

"You're right," she says, taking a sip from her steaming cup. "You do look cute." They grin at each other and then Mulder leans forward, kissing her nose. He hears her sharp intake of breath, watches her as he licks his lips.

"You taste good too." He's challenging her and Scully doesn't disappoint, kisses his nose in return. He expects her to say something, anything. But she's quiet, sipping her cocoa and hiding a smile behind her cup.


	15. dressing up like santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An “Emily/Christmas Carol” AU sort of thing

How many hours has he spent in hospitals, unable to do anything but wait? The answer is simple: too many. There is no one else in the waiting room this time of night and he is thankful for it. They’ve put up a few Christmas decorations, making it as cheerful as humanly possible. There are toys scattered around, for tiny siblings who don’t know what’s going on, who just want to play. Mulder stares at the closed glass doors, at the word pediatrics. As many hours as he’s been here, he’s never been right here, waiting to hear about a child. About Scully’s child.

When she called him, her voice laced with disbelief, with unshed tears, his first thought was that her cancer was back. His heart was pounding so furiously in his chest, in his ears, that her words didn’t penetrate at first. Child. Girl. Daughter. Her daughter. Looking back, he doesn’t remember what he replied. If he said anything at all. What do you say at a moment like that? Congratulations? This isn’t a Hallmark moment, not even close. 

He did what he does best and promised her he’d be there as soon as possible. Now he’s here and what good does it do? He had to see the little girl for himself. He couldn’t admit that to Scully, but it’s the truth. The second he laid eyes on Emily, it was all over. He knew at that moment that whatever happened next, he would be there for Scully, would do whatever it took to protect her and her daughter.

“Are you Santa Claus?” The glass doors swoosh open and Mulder startles when a young nurse approaches him.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not him, are you?” She sounds devastated. “We’ve been waiting for the Santa Claus impersonator for hours now. Who does that to kids?”

Who, indeed. He thinks of Emily, of children like her. They’re behind the glass door, stuck in their rooms, waiting. He knows how that is. This time, though, he can do something.

“If you don’t mind that I’m part Jewish, I’m your Santa Claus.” The young nurse smiles at him and takes him with her behind the doors.

The Santa suit was clearly meant for someone with more girth, but the helpful nurses, his own personal elves, make it work with an extra pillow hidden under it. When Mulder catches his unrecognizable reflection in the mirror, he grins.

“Ready for the kids, Mr. Mulder?” One of the nurses asks. They’re all beaming at him. He nods and follows them. Tiny heads turn in each room that he enters. There are ohhs! and ahhhs! from the children. Those who can walk over to him, shake his hand or hug him. Others just watch him with delighted eyes as he hands out small, hand-picked presents.

“This girl was only admitted today,” the nurse says before they enter Emily’s room. “She’s very sick.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“She’s my…” But he doesn’t know what Emily is. She’s Scully’s daughter, in a way. And what is Scully to him? His partner? His friend? Something else? There’s no term what they are, for what all of this means. “I know her.” Is what he settles on when the silence stretches on too long. The nurse nods, clearly not understanding. That is at least something he knows well.

“Hello there, Emily,” she says, putting on a smile as they enter. The girl is sitting up in her bed, looking a whole lot better than earlier. Mulder is taken aback by how much she reminds him of Scully. The same stoic expression Scully had on whenever her cancer forced her into the hospital. “Look who is here!”

“Santa Claus,” the girl replies in that same soft voice he’s heard a few times now. She’s smiling at him, shyly looking over.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Mulder waddles towards her, watching her giggle. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Scully, who is putting two and two together. He never could fool her; she knows him too well. “Merry Christmas, Emily.”

“Do you have a present for me?” She asks, getting excited.

“Hmmm, I think I do.” He reaches into his bag and takes out a colorful box. “This is for you, little Emily.”

“Thank you, Santa.” She starts tearing the wrapping paper and Mulder watches Scully. The longing on her face breaks his heart. They’ll never have this again. Being here, sharing this moment with her, is a gift. “A doll!” she squeaks. “Dana, look.”

“It’s a beautiful doll.” He’s never heard Scully’s voice sound so gentle. Not like this. “Do you have a gift for Dana, too?”

“Santa only has presents for the children,” the nurse quickly interjects. “He needs to keep going now. Right, Santa?” But Mulder doesn’t want to leave Scully and Emily yet. He mouths ‘one moment’ at the nurse, who sighs, but doesn’t object.

“I don’t have a present for Dana,” he explains to Emily. “What does Dana want for Christmas?” Both he and Emily look at Scully, who is nervously straightening Emily’s sheet. He knows what she wants. For this child to stop being in pain. For her to find some peace. If she could ask for it, if there was any way, she’d ask for the girl’s health. He sees all of it in her eyes, in the single tear that trickles down her cheek.

“I’ve got everything I want,” she says, looking at Emily and taking her hand. Then, her eyes meet his. He can’t tear himself away, wants to promise her that he can make this right. I saved you, didn’t I? he thinks. Maybe I can save your daughter, too.

“You know,” he says, leaning forward, “I think tonight might be a good night for a miracle.” Emily, listening intently, with her mouth hanging wide open, gasps. Mulder nods enthusiastically. “So no matter what you do,” he gently pokes Emily’s chest and turns to Scully, “never give up on a miracle.”


	16. Love Actually

Her shoes squeak on the linoleum, her scrubs emit a sweet-sour sweat smell with every step she takes. She knows she needs a shower and a meal. Sleep. But her mucles protest, force her to sit. She doesn't know what time it is; it's dark outside, but in late December the sky is always deep blue or black.

There is only one other person in the lounge aside from her. A young doctor Scully has worked with a few times. She smiles at her as she walks in, barely making it to the small couch.

"Long day?" Scully looks at her, remembers that her name is Sarah. The younger woman looks fresh faced, not yet beaten down by life, or loss. There's a sparkle in her eyes that tells her she wants to save the whole world. She was like that, once. She was young. So young and so naive.

"Yeah," she replies, her voice hoarse. It's been a long day, long week, long everything. She needs a break, desperately. But she doesn't want to go home. Her apartment feels cold, resembles a hotel room. She could have rented one and it wouldn't have made a difference. It's not a home.

"I love this movie," Sarah says and sighs in that particular way people do when they watch a romantic movie. She turns her eyes towards the screen and her heart misses a beat.

"Have you seen it before?" Sarah wants to know. Scully feels her eyes on her, but the young woman doesn't know her well enough to judge her emotions.

"I've seen it."

"It's beautiful, don't you think? All these love stories." What kind of story would we be, Scully? Mulder asked her ages ago, after they saw Love Actually together. It was their first date. Their first real one, as Mulder put it. Who goes on their first date after having a child together and leaving everything behind to run from the government? Only her and Mulder.

She had been hesitant, was scared it was too soon. They were still running, hardly ever stopping anywhere long enough to make memories. Their were fake, as were their hair colors. In those days the only true thing was their love for each other.

Mulder was adamant, as always. He wanted to see the movie with her. He promised her that no one would care if they went to see a movie in a small town theater that made their own popcorn and sold hot coffee instead of soda. And he was right, too. They never settled on what love story they would have made. Now she thinks it's a sad one. It must be.

"Dr. Scully?" The concern in Sarah's voice makes her look up. Her vision is blurry. She brings a hand to her face, finds it wet. When did she start crying?

"I'm just tired," she lies. "I should just..." She doesn't finish her thought, leaves the lounge just as the movie goes into its final scenes. Looking through the glass front, her eyes still on the movie, she takes out her phone, presses speed dial one. That will never change.

"Hey, what's up?" Mulder's monotone grumble brings new tears to her eyes. It makes her smile, too.

"Just wanted to say hi."

"Well... hi." She covers her face with her hand, hopes that Mulder can't hear her sobs. "I know we're not... I don't know what we are right now, Scully, but I'm here for you, whatever it is. You know that, right?"

"I know," she says in a small, teary voice. "Did you know that Love Actually is on TV?"

She hears him chuckle, wishes she could see him. Wishes he could hold her, kiss her hair and watch the movie with her, like they did back then. "Guess what I'm just watching."


	17. holiday office party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to day 10: christmas carols

"Mulder?" He's no longer right behind her. As she turns around, she sees him walk into the other direction, away from their office Christmas party. She follows him, speeding up to catch him.

"Where are you going?"

"I changed my mind," he says, not stopping. "I'm not singing."

"Mulder, we talked about this." They have. Neither of them is happy about having to sing a Christmas song. But Skinner insisted. And they've practiced. A lot. She is the one with the weaker voice, the one who can't carry a tune, but Mulder is the diva.

"What's the worst that Skinner could do? Suspend us? I'll take my chances." She doesn't let him run away, stops him with a hand on his arm.

"You love Blue Christmas," she reminds him softly. The last few days, she's listened to Mulder sing the song again and again. She's fallen in love. With him, or his voice. Maybe both, a little bit. "It might be fun."

"For whom? I'm sure everyone else will have fun laughing about us." Scully is worried about it herself, but he doesn't need to know that.

"We're in this together, aren't we? Do you really want me to have to go on stage and sing by myself?"

"That's a cheap shot, Scully." She knows that, but she doesn't want to do it without Mulder. They've turned it into a duet. She can't do it without him.

"You're not alone," she says, taking a step closer. "If they laugh, they'll laugh at both of us."

"I don't want anyone to laugh at you," he says, lowering his head. They're all alone here in the hallway. Everyone else is at the party already, most likely getting drunk. But his words are only meant for her. A line from their song comes to her mind. I'll have a blue Christmas without you. It's the first line of the song and it's hers. She realizes how true it rings. Without him, her Christmas would be blue.

"Are you ready?" she asks him, her voice only a whisper now.

"No," he says, a soft grumble following his reply. "But I'll go."

"Thank you." As they walk, she puts her hand on his back. He turns his head slightly; a question. This is what he does for her all the time. His hand on her back lets her know he's there. That no matter what, he's got her back. She wants him to know she's got his, too.

As they return to the party, Mulder walks up to Skinner, who seems to have had a few drinks already.

"Just so you know, Skinman, we're only doing this one time," he says and their boss nods, not even hiding his grin. The room falls quiet as Mulder and Scully take the makeshift stage.

Throughout the whole song, they keep eye contact. There's only them. It's the same way it always is. Mulder and Scully against everyone else. When they're done, they applaud and cheer. There's no laughter. They stay until Skinner finishes his very drunk rendition of All I Want For Christmas Is You, his eyes landing on his secretary more than a few times.

"Let's go," Mulder whispers after, his voice a tickle against her ear. This time it's his hand on her back, leading her outside for everyone to see. In the garage, he leans against her car, trying to look cool.

"Wasn't too bad, was it?" he asks.

"No, it wasn't." He's waiting for something and she doesn't know what. Neither of them has had alcohol. They both stayed clear of mistletoe at the party. But here in the parking garage, the atmosphere crackles. Scully thinks she can hear music somewhere. Mulder takes a step forward. It's a party of two now. Her favorite kind.

"I don't want a blue Christmas," he confesses.

"Me neither."

"I didn't want to do it upstairs but..." He can't keep talking because his lips land on hers. Their kiss is gentle, a first try, a mere taste. He moves back, looks at her with a dazed expression.

"That wasn't too bad either, huh?" His grin is sweet and she wants to kiss it right of his face. So she does


	18. holiday baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between "Hungry" and "Millennium"

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was Dana Scully’s apartment.” Mulder, standing in front of her door, is grinning from ear to ear and obviously finding himself very funny. “Do you know where I can find her?" 

"Why are you here, Mulder?” With her flying out to San Diego tomorrow morning, it can’t be for a case. They said goodbye yesterday at the office and part of her has been expecting a call from him all day. Now here he is in front of her door, like a present she didn’t ask for. A welcome one, though.

“I forgot to give you your Christmas present.”

“I thought we said no presents this year.” They say it every year and yet they end up exchanging gifts every time. Mulder shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “Come on in, then.”

“It smells good in here,” he says, taking off his coat. He’s wearing her favorite grey t-shirt and for a moment the sight throws her off.

“Cookies,” she says, looking at him. “I’m making cookies for my family.”

“Is that why you’re wearing that… thing?”

“It’s an apron.”

“I can see that but…”

“It was my grandmother’s,” Scully says defensively. The red and green color scheme is antiquated. Even as children, she and Melissa made fun of Granny’s old apron. When she helped her mother declutter her house a while back, she felt a pang of nostalgia seeing it. She spent many hours in the kitchen with her grandmother while she cooked and baked. The familiar scent is long gone, but the memories are woven in. Scully doesn’t cook often, and bakes even less, but whenever she does, she wears her grandmother’s apron.

“These look good, Scully.” He grabs one of the finished cookies and stuffs it into his mouth, his eyes fixated on her. “They taste good too.” She slaps his hand away as he reaches for another one. His pout melts her heart. 

“They’re for my family.”

“Where are the ones for your favorite partner slash friend?”

“Who says you’re my favorite?” She winks at him and Mulder puts his hand on his chest in mock pain.

“I’m wounded, Scully.”

“Help me make a few more and I’ll share. What do you say?” He looks at her and the way he licks his lip makes her want to forget about cookies altogether. 

“Do you have another apron?”

She should have known that Mulder would be messy in the kitchen. She didn’t have another apron for him and now his shirt, the one she loves so much, is decorated with flour, butter, and dough. Mulder doesn’t seem to care. He sways in rhythm with the Christmas music, cutting out cookies with precision.

“Hey, am I the only one working here?” he asks when he catches her watching him. She blushes and presses the cookie-cutter she’s been holding into the dough.

“I was distracted,” she admits.

“By good how I am at this?”

“By how messy you are.” Mulder looks down at his t-shirt and shrugs.

“I could take it off.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “If it’s so distracting.” Maybe it’s the season. Maybe it’s the fact that they’ve been growing closer lately. There are a lot of maybe’s and she doesn’t want to add another what-if to the equation.

“You probably should.” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then he slips the shirt over his head and throws it into a corner.

“Better?” She stares at his chest - his naked chest - and her mouth is dry. Mulder, on the other hand, is grinning proudly. “You know, Scully,” he begins and is it just her or did his voice drop a few octaves? “I feel rather… naked. Turnabout is fair play.”

“Well, Mulder, I’m sorry but unlike you, I’m not messy.”

“Are you sure?” he asks and before she knows what’s happening, he’s dabbed some dough on her shirt, right by her breast. “I think you should take off your shirt now.”

“Hmm.” She glances at him, at his too sure expression. She dips her fingers into the dough and touches his chest, fingerpainting with it.

“Turnabout is fair play,” she says with a shrug, repeating his own words. Her hand is still on his chest. His skin is so warm, seems to be burning her.

“If that’s how you want to do it.” She expects more dough from him but Mulder has other ideas. He grabs a handful of flour and sprinkles it over her. She opens her mouth to protest and inhales the flour, coughing. 

“Scully, are you all right?” He gently pats her back. The flour is everywhere. She can taste it, feels like she’s breathing it. She wants to assure him that she’s fine but the words won’t come.

“Shit, Scully, I-” he doesn’t get to finish because she reaches behind her, grabs the first thing she finds and throws it at Mulder’s face. She catches her breath, finally, and wipes some flour off her face. When she looks at him, she realizes what exactly she just threw at him.

Mulder is covered in colorful sprinkles. Some cling to his cheek, some to his lips. Most of them are in his hair and on his chest. He’s a Mulder rainbow. She puts her hand over her mouth but her cough doesn’t mask her amusement. 

“How do I look?” he asks, looking down at himself.

Her laughter turns into a hiccup. He looks good enough to eat, she thinks.

“Oh, do I?” Oh no, she said it out loud, Mulder’s grin is back. He touches his face and there’s rainbow sprinkle on his finger. He stares at it a moment before he offers it to Scully. Well, she started this. Sort of. She’s not going to give him the satisfaction of giving up. Instead, she takes his finger in between her lips, sucks it into her mouth, and watches him. When he starts squirming, she sucks harder, taking hold of his hand and making it impossible for him to get away.

“Fuck, Scully, this is not… what I… meant.” She releases his finger but keeps her eyes on him. He’s staring back at her, his eyes hungry. She wonders if her eyes do, too. She feels hungry. 

“What about me?” she asks. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” he answers simply. “You look perfect. I didn’t know flour could be so… sexy.” 

“Want to know what it tastes like?” 

“Oh yeah.” But Mulder has never been satisfied with only a taste. No, he grabs her and draws her close, pressing his lips against hers. She tastes the flour and the cookie dough, sprinkles and Mulder. So much Mulder. She thinks she can taste the future.


	19. cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the revival.

“I didn’t know you cared for this kind of movie, Scully.” Mulder, sprawling on her bed, in her motel room, looks slightly disgusted at the small screen where two generic actors share a truly boring, less than passionate kiss in a typical, cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

“I don’t,” she says, returning her attention to the case report they’re supposed to be working on. Despite his words, Mulder’s eyes are glued to the movie and Scully can’t help but smile.

“Then why are you watching it?”

“Mulder, you have your own motel room. If my choice of movie bothers you so much, you’re free to leave.” She doesn’t mean to be snippy but this is still her room. Lately, he is reluctant to leave her alone. Who knows why. She has some ideas, considering what they – what she – has gone through this past year. That’s why she can’t be angry with him. Most of the time she appreciates his quiet concern. This is her Mulder, the one she knows and loves. 

“It’s just so… mindless.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to be.”

“They’re predictable.”

“Some people like predictability.” Scully keeps trying to concentrate on the report, but her mind isn’t cooperating. Instead, she finds herself glancing at the TV much more often, and at Mulder. He’s lying on his stomach, his head bedded on his hands, and watches the movie as if this was a cozy pajama party. But they’re not 15 years old and they’re not wearing pajamas while talking about boys.

“The snow is fake, you know.”

“I know.”

“They make those movies in summer. Can you imagine that?”

“Mulder, it’s a movie.” She sighs in exasperation, giving up on the report.

“Yeah, but not a good one.”

“Not every movie has to be a masterpiece.” Scully taps on his shoulder, motioning for him to make space for her on the bed. It’s hers, after all. Now they’re both on their stomachs, watching the movie. “It’s supposed to make you feel good.”

“Well, I don’t feel good watching it. Seriously, Scully, why did you turn it on?” She doesn’t answer him right away, needs to will the surfacing memories away first.

“My mom loves them,” she says quietly. “Used to love them,” she corrects herself, sadness spreading like a wildfire inside her stomach.

“I didn’t know that.”

“When we- after we…” she doesn’t want to say the words. After they broke up. After she moved out. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Mulder nod, hearing everything she doesn’t say. “We would watch them together. They’re mind-numbing and some days that was all I wanted.”

“Do you still want that?” This time, he fully turns to her.

“Sometimes,” she admits.

“I understand,” he says, still keeping eye contact. “But you have to admit they’re silly. They’re supposed to be romantic, right?” When he doesn’t go on, she nods.

“There’s no passion between these two. They could be brother and sister.”

“That kind of movie wouldn’t be on Hallmark.”

“Sounds more like something I would watch, doesn’t it?” He winks at her. “Why don’t they cast actors with more chemistry?”

“Maybe none of those were available.”

“Look, Scully!” Mulder elbows her side. “They’re kissing again. Ew.” Scully watches him, finds him way more entertaining than the movie. She switched it on because she felt homesick for a home she could never return to. To say she misses her mother is an understatement. The word doesn’t do the feeling justice. It doesn’t even come close. Having Mulder here with her, sharing this with him, makes her feel hopeful. Her mother would like this. She can almost see her smile in her mind, telling her to be with Mulder, to throw caution to the wind and be with the man she loves.

“It’s just not right watching this. I have more chemistry with our neighbor, Mrs. Gould.” Scully giggles. Mrs. Gould is an 80-year-old, nearly blind, nearly deaf woman who always tells Mulder how handsome he is.

“Have you kissed her?”

“Would that make you jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Then maybe I’ve kissed her.” Talk about chemistry, Scully thinks as she looks into Mulder’s eyes. They have it in spades; she feels it run through her, making her shiver. “We could star in one of these movies. It’d be called ‘How Mulder and Scully Saved Christmas’. We’d give the audience a real kiss. They’d hire us for every Christmas movie, Scully.”

“You think we could convince them?”

He nods. “Oh yeah. Want me to demonstrate?” On the screen, the fake couple stands in the fake snow, smiling and kissing. Or pretending to. Here in this motel room, Scully leans forward and meets Mulder halfway. Their tongues play with each other, greet each other like old friends. Mulder’s right; they’d be a very convincing couple.


	20. too much eggnog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 6/7-ish

"Where am I?" Even though she is sitting down, Scully is swaying. There's no music, not anymore.

"In my car," Mulder says. "I'm taking you home."

"Aw Mulder," she sighs, putting a hand on his thigh and squeezing it. "You're so sweeet." She draws out the word. And leaves her hand on his thigh. And starts stroking him, her hand inching closer and closer into dangerous territory.

Here they go again.

Scully turned into feral Dana after her second glass of eggnog at the office Christmas party. Had she stopped after that second one, maybe it would have been fine. But she didn't. She had another three glasses instead. When she started talking to the wall, Mulder decided it was time for her to go home.

"Let's go, Scully," he said, his voice low. He didn't want to cause a scene.

"Go where?" She stepped closer to him, falling against him. Her fingers dug into his biceps and he put his hands on her hips to keep her upright.

"Home," he replied.

"That is a very good idea." For a moment he thought she was being her reasonable self and he let his guard down. A mistake. With more dexterity he thought possible, she reached between his legs and grabbed his cock.

"Scully!" He hissed, moving away from her hand, his cock complaining.

"Oops," she said with a grin, "should I wait until we're home?" She winked at him and he knew he was in deep trouble.

Since then she hasn't tried anything else. Until now. Mainly because she's been falling asleep every other moment, her head rolling against the car window. This is the first time Mulder has ever seen Scully drunk. He's known her six years but he's never experienced her like this.

"Are we almost home?" she asks with a yawn.

"Almost."

"Can't wait for bed." She giggles and her hand crawls up higher. Mulder's cock twitches. He's only a man. He puts a hand on hers and stops her. This is a very bad idea. Very, very bad.

Five minutes later he turns into Scully's street. She's fallen asleep again and he's thankful. She doesn't wake when he parks the car. He glances at her sleeping form, wondering how he'll get her inside. Why did she drink so much?

"Hey," he whispers, touching her cheek.

"Hmmm, Mulder." She doesn't open her eyes.

"Let's get out of the car, okay? Go upstairs?" She still doesn't open her eyes but a grin appears on her face.

"Hmm, yes."

Mulder helps her out of the car, holding her up and nearly carrying her inside. She starts nuzzling his neck, leaving tiny kisses against his skin.

"Scully, please." She is not herself.

"I love you, Mulder." The words surprise him so much that she almost slips from his arms. "Should have told you," she sighs deeply, "should have told you months ago. Now you... you no longer..." She is pouting and there are tears in the corners of her eyes.

"We'll talk about this in the morning, all right? When you're more yourself?" Is this why she drank too much? he wonders.

She slaps her arm. "I'm myself. I'm Scully."

"I know you are." He kisses her cheek. "Let's get you to bed now. Just you," he adds when he sees the gleam in her eyes.

Scully follows him dutifully into the bedroom and starts undressing immediately. She's humming something and Mulder makes sure to occupy himself with turning down the bed.

A moment later, she walks past him and lies down. She's wearing an old t-shirt that looks vaguely familiar to him. The mere thought that she might have stolen one of his shirts makes him smile.

"Are you leaving?" she asks, all cuddled up. He should, he thinks. But he doesn't want to leave her alone. He softly shakes his head.

"I'm staying. Go to sleep, Scully." He stays until her breathing has evened out. Love you, he thinks before he goes to the living room, to get some sleep as well.

It doesn't take long.

He's been asleep for maybe an hour or two when he hears noises coming from Scully's bedroom. He gets up, his steps quiet on the carpet. There's a light on in the bathroom and he goes in.

"Scully?" he asks softly. She's on the floor, hugging the toilet.

"Go away," she sobs. "Please. This is so embarrassing."

"It's not," he says, sitting down next to her and stroking her back.

"I look like hell."

"You don't. And anyway, I've looked worse."

"I feel like hell. Mulder, the things I said earlier and..." she pauses and he thinks she might get sick again. "The things I did. I'm so sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he assures her.

"You can go now, I can-"

"I'll stay with you."

"I'm gonna be sick again." Mulder holds her hair back and stays with her, realizing there's no place he'd rather be.


	21. christmas tree

"Um, Mulder, I hate asking this but... do you have any plans this weekend?" The moment the words are out, she realizes she could have - and should have - phrased it differently. Before she can take it back or clarify, Mulder smiles at her.

"No plans. Why?"

"It's my mom. She, um, she needs help buying a Christmas tree. My dad used to do it but..." It's been a year since her father's death and sometimes the memories still overwhelm her and put a lump in her throat. This is their first Christmas without him and everything is different. He was in charge of buying the tree. Always. When she and Melissa offered to do it this year, her mother went ballistic. According to her mother, buying a tree is a man's job. No matter what Scully said, her mother refused to listen. There was no way she would let her daughters, one of which had recently been hospitialized, do the "dirty work".

"You want me to help buy a Christmas tree?"

"If you don't have time or-"

"I'd love to help, Scully. When do you need me?"

And just like that it's a date. Or something like it.

Her mother is overjoyed to see Mulder. She hugs him heartily as if he's always been part of the family. She immediately invites him for dinner after, not even giving Mulder a chance to say no.

"So, mom asks for a guy and you bring your cute partner?" Melissa hugs her, grinning.

"Please don't call him cute." If anyone asks, her cheeks are pink from the cold.

"Look at him," Melissa says. She puts her head on her shoulder and together they watch him. He's patient. Listens to everything her mother says, his head lowered. Scully smiles. "Don't tell me you don't find him cute." He is. The way he's treating her mother says everything about him as a man.

"Dana, come on. Admit it." It's as though she's 15 again and Melissa is pestering her about her crush.

"I admit nothing," she says, a smile creeping into her voice.

"So if I wanted to ask him out on a date you'd be okay with it?" It stings. It really stings. They'd fit well together, of course. Two peas in a pod. But the mere thought feels like a punch in her gut.

"Relax, Dana," Melissa says, laughing softly. "You should have seen your face. He's all yours."

"Missy, we're not-"

"Except you kind of are. Why do you think he's here? You didn't see him when you were in the hospital, but I did. Even if I was interested in him, there's only one Scully woman for him." As if on cue, Mulder glances over at them and just like Melissa said, he only has eyes for her. His smile is soft. Happy. She feels the same. Her lips curl upwards involuntarily.

"Dana and Fox, sitting in tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g," Melissa hums, making kissing noises.

"Stop it."

"Sorry, sis. I just think the two of you might need some help." Her sister winks at her and laughs.


	22. the nutcracker

Any second now he is going to wake up and laugh about this weird dream in which he, Scully, her mother and Skinner are at the ballet, seeing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker.

But he doesn't wake up. This is neiter a dream nor a hallucination. He is here, dressed to the nines, as is Scully. Skinner is wearing a tux and a bowtie. How is this reality?

"Mulder," Scully hisses.

"Huh?" He blinks at her and sees her smile.

"You seemed miles away."

"I was thinking - hoping - I was dreaming."

"Because of them?" She motions to where her mother and Skinner stand, both sipping champagne out of flutes, both giggling like teenagers. Mulder nods, unable to take his eyes off of them.

"Mulder, they're not dating." He glares at her, knowing she is in denial.

"The same way we're not dating?"

"Well, we're not," she says, and a little more quietly, so only he can hear it, "not officially, anyway."

"Maybe they're not ready to make it public either."

"Mulder, my mother is not dating our boss."

"If you say so." He shrugs, glancing once more at the other couple. Scully is in for a surprise. And it comes much sooner than even he anticipated. His hand lands on the small of her back, ready to lead her inside when they're witnessing a very awkward, very embarrassing - for them, anyway - kiss between Skinner and Scully's mother. There's an 'I told you so' on his tongue that he decides to swallow.

"Did you see - Mulder, did that just happen?" she asks.

"Pinch me," he says and she knits her eyebrows together. "Pinch me and I'll tell you if it just happened." So she pinches him. Harder than he ever pinched himself. It hurts and he winces.

"I guess that's my answer. Mulder, I think I'm gonna be sick."

"We should go in," Skinner lets them know, his arm around Scully's mother, who is beaming. The expression on her face is familiar. Scully wears the same one when she's... uh oh.

"Are you two all right? You look pale."

"Scully isn't feeling well."

"Dana, what's the matter?"

"I'm fine, mom. I just need... some fresh air. You two go in and we'll be right there." The older couple observes them for a moment longer, easily slipping into parent mode. If Mulder plays his cards right, and Skinner does, too, his boss will be his father-in-law. Maybe he's going to be sick too.

They walk outside, the cold a nice reminder that this is indeed their reality.

"They were kissing," Scully says, slapping her own forehead. "I really thought... I don't know what I was thinking." Mulder lets her vent. He takes off his jacket and drapes it over her. He doesn't want her to be cold.

"You saw them, right? They were kissing?" Mulder just nods. He wonders what she'd say if he told her he was hungry. Why can't they ditch the damn Nutcracker and go somewhere and have fun? By go somewhere he means one of their apartments and by have fun he means have sex. They haven't had enough sex yet. He remembers Mrs. Scully's expression earlier and wonders if she and Skinner have had sex yet. And how often.

"Why are you making that face, Mulder?"

"I was just- you don't want to know." Her face tells him that she's not accepting that answer. "Believe me, Scully. You don't want to know."

"Say it."

"I was wondering whether they've had sex yet."

"You're right," she says, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't want to know. What are we going to do now?"

"Well," he starts, walking over to her and taking her into his arms. She leans against him, her chin resting on his chest and looking up. She's so beautiful. And he's thankful that he can hold her like this, that she lets herself be vulnerable in his arms. For a brief moment he wonders if this a good moment to say I love you. It isn't. Her mind is on what she saw between her mother and Skinner.

"There are two choices here," he continues, brushing a lock of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. "We go back in and enjoy The Nutcracker pretending we didn't see anything."

"What's my other option?"

"We go home and have sex." She closes her eyes for a moment, a smile on her face.

"Or," he says and one of her eyes pops open. "We go see The Nutcracker with your mom and her boyfriend," Scully shoots him a look, "and then at intermission we decide if it's bearable or not. If not, we go home and have sex. If it is, we stay until it's over and then go home."

"And have sex?" She's smiling.

"If that's what you want." He can't keep the grin off his face.

"I like your idea."

"Let's go back in then."

"Wait a moment." She gets on tiptoes and kisses him. The kiss is soft at first, but neither can get enough and their tongues meet, driving each other crazy.

"That was a good moment," he says with his eyes still closed when she ends the kiss. His lips tingle. When he runs his tongue over them, he can taste Scully's lipstick, can taste her. He wants more.

"Just something to tide us over."

"Good thinking." He grabs her hand and they slowly make their way back inside. "Let's go crack that nut so we can go home and have some real fun."


	23. a new tradition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another post-ep for "How The Ghosts Stole Christmas".

With their respective presents unwrapped, they sit on the couch, at once too close and not close enough. They're both silent, uncertain what to say. Mulder doesn't know what Scully is thinking, if she's genuinely happy with the earrings he got her. She's still holding the small tube in her hands, looking down at it.

"You can exchange them if you want," he blurts when the pressuring silence becomes too much for him.

"Mulder, no," she says, putting a hand over his. "I love them."

"You look contemplative."

"Um, it's just that... I don't want to leave." Barely above a whisper. 

He doesn't want her to leave either but asking her to stay would be selfish. 

"Your family will miss you."

"What about you?"

"I have my book." He smiles, tapping his brand new North America’s Great Ape: The Sasquatch that Scully got him. "Don't worry about me. Go be with your family, go be merry."

"Are you throwing me out?" she asks with a hint of humor.

"I would never throw you out."

"Can I at least call you tomorrow? Well, today," she asks, chewing her bottom lip. His eyes are glued to her mouth. It's Christmas. Maybe he should wait until New Year's Eve. He can always claim the holiday made him do it. Right now, he needs to know what those lips feel like against his, how they taste. He leans into her, smelling chocolate and sleepy Scully.

"You can stop me any time," he whispers.

"I don't want you to stop." Their lips meet and he already knows letting her go will be even more difficult now. Scully deepens the kiss, surprising him. She moves into his lap, her mouth never leaving his. What if this, just like them shooting each other, isn't real? With great reluctance, he breaks the kiss.

"Too much?" she asks, her lips swollen and deep red. His whole body reacts. He needs more. So much more.

"Not enough," he says, gasping for air. "But..."

"It's real, Mulder. I promise you it's real." She puts her hand on his cheeks, frames his face. Her smile is radiant. A moment later, his eyes drift close when their lips reconnect. Their hands aren't idle as their mouths, after all these years, become acquainted in this new, intimate fashion. He moans when her hands wander under his shirt, tug at the fabric. Together, they take it off. Their lips disconnected, their eyes meet, hungry and certain. There are no words spoken as they undress each other. When her nipples brush his naked chest, he gasps. Please be real, he chants mentally. Be real, be real.

"Make love to me," Scully says. "Please." He captures her lips again, feeling wild. His lips move over hers before he moves lower, and lower still. He wants to stay on her perfect breasts, her nipples beckoning him. But right now he is too impatient. So is she, he thinks when she tangles her fingers in his hair, silently begging him for more.

Tasting her is a dream come true. Hearing her moan his name as she flies for the first time is pure ecstasy. He licks his lips, tasting her again. But he won't be selfish tonight. He kisses her, moving between her open legs, sharing her sweet taste. They fit together perfectly. Her nails dig into his back, leaving marks. She's already left marks on his heart, his soul. These new ones are a souvenir. His thrusts become erratic right before their eyes meet. He watches her as she comes apart under him and then he lets go too.

"Best Christmas ever," Mulder says once he's found his breath, once they're cuddled together on his couch, naked under the blanket.

"Hmm." Scully agrees, kissing his chest.

"From shooting each other to sleeping with each other. Who would have thought?"

"We didn't really shoot each other."

"But we really did have sex. Right?" Scully chuckles and strokes his chest.

"We did. We should do this every year."

"Have sex? Once a year?" He turns his head so that he can see her better.

"No, I mean we should spend Christmas together every year."

"What about your family?"

"You are a part of my family, Mulder."

He kisses her nose, overwhelmed with emotions. "And you are mine."

"So it's a deal?" There's a hint of apprehension in her voice.

"Let's start a tradition," he says. "Our very own. From now on, we spend Christmas together. If the fates allow." He grins at her, his heart beating fast. For him, there is no question. There is no one but her for him.

"Our very own tradition." She kisses him, making it official.


	24. new year's eve kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep for "Millennium".

There’s a hint of novelty in the air. Scully sneaks a glance at Mulder, who is trying to help her mother with the punch. Her one-armed gentleman. The smile on her face has been there for hours now. Who knew she’d end up smiling after a zombie attack? Never a dull moment when Mulder is involved, that’s for sure.

There was no question as to where he would spend New Year’s Eve. By her side. Especially after that first kiss. There hasn’t been a repeat performance. Yet. It’s no longer a question of if, just when.

For once, the new year holds so much promise.

“Fox, go sit down or… look, there’s Dana,” she hears her mother say and push Mulder towards her. He’s wearing a sheepish expression as he makes his way over to her.

“What did you do?” Scully asks, bumping his hip with hers.

“It’s not easy doing anything with one arm, Scully.” She wants to kiss the pout off his face. Maybe not here, where everyone can see them. Most of the people here at her mother’s house are neighbors she’s only ever seen in passing. There are a few teenagers who obviously don’t want to be here. A few kids running around and stealing snacks, convinced no one can see them. She is thankful that she’s got Mulder. But are they ready to make it official? Whatever they are?

“Listen to my mother and sit down.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“What do you want to do?” Uh oh, maybe she shouldn’t have asked that. He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t need to. She sees it in the way his eyes take her in. It’s in the way he licks his lips and smiles at her. The temperature in the living room rises with every second that passes. With every prolonged look they share.

“Mulder…,” she mumbles, wants to remind him where they are. But she can’t find the words. He takes her hand in his and she watches their fingers lace together. It’s a perfect fit, in every way.

“Miss Dana?” There’s a soft tug on her sweater and as she looks down, she sees one of the smaller children. The little boy holds out a pack of candy to her. “Can you please open this? I can’t.”

“Are you allowed to have them?” Scully asks and the child blushes.

“You know what?” Mulder says, addressing the boy. “We won’t tell anyone if you share with us.” The kid nods enthusiastically, revealing a big tooth gap when he grins.

“Here you go,” Scully hands back the confectionery. The child takes out a biscuit covered almost entirely in chocolate and offers it to Mulder.

“Only one?” He asks but the kid shrugs and runs away with the box of biscuits. “Well, Scully, looks like we have to share. Do you know the Pocky Game?”

“The what?” Mulder makes his ‘ah’ face that he always gets when he knows something she doesn’t. He takes a deep breath and puts on a smile.

“You see, this stick – it’s called Pocky in Japan where the game originates from. Each player takes one end in their mouth and bites off a piece until nothing’s left.”

“Like in Lady and the Tramp?”

Mulder beams at her. “Exactly. Just better because it’s chocolate. Do you want to play?” She knows he let out an important part. The part about what happens once there’s no more Pocky. But it’s a new year and she feels adventurous so she nods.

Mulder takes the end that’s not covered in chocolate. It’s awkward with their height difference but they make it work. Their eyes are glued to each other while they bite off piece by piece.

Her heart speeds up the closer they get. The chocolate is sweet, but she’s tasted Mulder now and she knows he tastes even sweeter. She wants more of that taste. His nose bumps into hers and she almost bites off too much of the Pocky. And then the chocolate is gone and is replaced with Mulder. She doesn’t know who moves in first, whose tongue invades first. All she knows is that she’s kissing Mulder again.

He breaks the kiss way too soon, still grinning. “I win.”

“Hey wait, why do you win?” She asks.

“Got you to kiss me at your mother’s New Year’s Day party.”

“You made up this game, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head, cupping her cheek and gently stroking it with his thumb. “It’s real. I just saw a chance and I took it.”

“Maybe this year we can take more chances.”

“I’d like that.”


End file.
